


the worst kind of cold (is without your eyes on me)

by wormguts



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Person Bruce Wayne, Bad wrong, Bottom Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Come Eating, Comeplay, Consensual Underage Sex, Crying, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Don't Like Don't Read, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest Kink, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Hatred, Self-Loathing, Size Difference, Squirting, There's a tiny bit of plot if you squint, Top Bruce Wayne, Trans Jason Todd, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, essentially jason is fucked up, he also gets fucked, jason has a pussy, mentioned molestation, molestation kink, pov robin gets railed by batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormguts/pseuds/wormguts
Summary: “Jason,” he says, and all neutrality from before is gone; he’s frowning slightly, arms crossed over his chest. An eyebrow quirks in expectation. “Let’s talk about what happened.”Jason’s mouth waters. He stands on shaky legs, unable to stop himself from rubbing his thighs together for some kind of relief. He’s a little pervert in the making, getting off on daddy’s punishment.basically, Jason fucks up on a mission and Bruce fucks the ever-loving shit out of him. to teach him a lesson or whatever.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 167





	the worst kind of cold (is without your eyes on me)

**Author's Note:**

> i promised jason todd pussy and i am a man of my word
> 
> ignore the fact that this is absolute garbage

Although he knows they aren't, Bruce's eyes feel like the coldest thing in the room.

Jason can almost feel them seeping bone-deep to clutch at his rabbiting heart. The only thing keeping him from freezing up, going into _holy shit I pissed off Batman_ mode, is the fact that he’s already set in that particular department: a thick layer of ice thankfully protects his squishy innards from Batman's fists— but not his expression.

Victor Freeze is doing whatever Victor Freeze does when he's lost to Batman again. It sounds like a lot of screaming and cursing (with a few old-fashioned supervillain threats thrown in to spice things up), but Jason is too distracted to glance over there. Bruce is staring at him with one of those _looks_ — the loathsome kind that is palpable through the cowl, the kind that makes shivers lick up and down the length of his spine.

He doesn't say anything to Jason while he retrieves a small laser from his belt, nor does he acknowledge their rambling captive tied to one of the warehouse's concrete pillars. He told Jason he designed the tool with Victor specifically in mind. When they heard the doctor is back in town, Bruce insisted they both carry one on their person in case of emergency.

Jason thinks Bruce's unnecessary " _hnn_ ," indicates he's not thrilled Robin got caught in Victor's freeze-ray blast. Twice.

The police show up shortly after to haul Victor away. The commissioner and Batman step aside to discuss probably morbid details and grumble about taxes or something. Jason hasn't been allowed over there much, so he doesn't know what they get up to besides boring adult stuff. It isn't very interesting even after tonight's debacle, if the stiff line of Bruce's shoulders is anything to go by.

Normally, by now he'd be atop a nearby building or with the police cruisers barricading the street, waiting for Bruce to finish up. He'd give the Batman space to do his Batman shit, and once he was done, they'd go hand-in-hand into the sunset like every other night.

Not tonight. The only sunset involved will set on his newly dug grave.

He'd almost be bored, if not for the incessant _Bruce is mad Bruce is mad Bruce is mad_ playing through his mind like a broken record. He even contemplates scaling the building and making a run for it, but a heavy hand lands on his shoulder before he can get his feet to move. He blinks up into the whites of Batman’s cowl and subsequently loses three years off his life.

“It’s late,” Bruce says, which can either mean _‘let’s go home and enjoy a warm cup of cocoa and read bedtime stories by the fire,’_ or _‘I’m finally going to slit your throat, you insolent brat,’_ depending on how paranoid Jason is feeling. Right now, he’s sitting at around an eight. Read: Bruce Wayne is going to kill him for being stupid and no one will find the body because _oh yeah, Bruce Wayne is Batman._

Wisely, he keeps quiet on the way back to the Batmobile. He wracks his brain for a way to apologize, to grovel at Bruce’s iron-toed boots in a way that’s totally not groveling. Nothing short of a few strategically placed tears are looking to do the job. If he’s lucky, he’ll be let out of the manor in a month’s time. If he isn’t?

Well, let’s just say being Freeze’s personal shooting target isn’t going to be the most painful activity on this evening’s agenda.

They are silent on the way back to the manor, which both terrifies and settles him. Bruce is rarely anything else these days, but the added mantra of _fix it fix it_ rattling around inside his head is making him restless. He’s too afraid to say anything to make him snap further. Yet that’s all he wants.

Before he has a chance to do something stupid like crawl into Bruce’s lap and beg forgiveness, Bruce is already stepping out of the Batmobile. Jason blinks owlishly out the dark, tinted window at the interior of the Cave. He has two seconds to realize he’d spaced for the entire drive back before he’s springing to action. First, he needs to apologize to Bruce, then he needs to get the hell out of dodge if he wants to keep all ten fingers.

Except— he can’t.

Bruce quirks one eyebrow at him expectantly. He’s halfway through undoing the top half of his suit, the cowl tossed to— to wherever it was tossed. Jason wasn’t watching.

Just like he isn’t— _can’t_ now. He diverts his gaze to the floor, burning holes through the toes of his green pixie boots. He can’t do it. He can’t summon the courage to look the man in the eye. Forget apologizing, he’s going to spill his guts and all Bruce will do is make that stupid _“hnn,”_ noise.

“What is it, Jason?” Bruce asks, voice cryptically neutral.

“Nothin’,” Jason mumbles, embarrassed to realize his teeth are chattering. “Guess that blast just got me pretty good.”

“Which one? The first, or the second?”

Jason whips his head up to stare in shock at—

Is Bruce _teasing_ him?

He feels his cheeks warm. “Har-har, old man.” He swallows and ducks his head. It’s true that tonight was entirely his own fault. Bruce should be furious with him, but instead, he doesn’t appear to be all that angry. Is he hiding it for later, or is he really not upset with him?

He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, steeling himself. “Hey, B?” Bruce hums to indicate he’s listening. “Do you… I screwed up, didn’t I?”

There is no reply from Bruce for a moment. Finally, when Jason raises his gaze to meet his eyes, he finds Bruce watching him with an expression Jason can’t decipher. It makes something hot and dangerous swoop low in his belly.

“You did,” Bruce says at length. He doesn’t offer anything else.

Oh. So.

Jason quietly undresses himself without further comment. He makes himself as small and unobtrusive as possible, quickly sneaking away to the showers while Bruce starts on tonight’s report.

He fucked up. He’s certain he knows how to fix it, but Bruce’s calm is making him uneasy. Will it really be enough?

Oh, hell. He pushes all thoughts from his mind as he washes his body, paying close attention to his bottom half. He keeps an eye out for Bruce, still inexplicably shy at the possibility of the man witnessing him cleaning himself for his use. He’s never been shy about much before, but the idea of Bruce seeing him up against the wall, two wet fingers inside of himself, prepping his body for his cock, makes him feel hot and flushed all over.

He finishes quickly, dressing in a pair of cotton briefs and a soft sleep shirt. He doesn’t bother with anything else; it’s not like he’ll be needing them anyway.

He finds Bruce where he left him, sitting at the computer.

“Are you going to shower?” Jason asks. He never minds if Bruce doesn’t, but it seems to bother Bruce. Besides, he needs some time to get his bearings.

Bruce glances at him briefly, smirking slightly. “Be good,” he orders. Jason nods meekly, and with that, Bruce retreats.

Left to his own devices, Jason’s mind wanders. The last time he got himself into a needlessly dangerous situation at the hand of another B-grade villain, Bruce fucked him so hard he couldn’t walk the next day. He’d made Jason cry enough that his eyes swelled up nice and puffy, the way Bruce likes. It was also the first time Bruce face-fucked him, which was... an experience.

Thinking of his past punishments makes him squirm. As much as he hates disappointing Bruce, there’s just something about surrendering to him, letting him use him to his heart’s content. His need to please Bruce, his desire to do good, to make him proud... the need to make up for screwing up, the need to have Bruce balls deep inside of him, telling him he forgives him, that Jason’s only his...

Fuck. It’s so good.

He settles on top of the desk, trying to relax. He absentmindedly palms at his crotch, his underwear already wet imagining what Bruce will do to him this time. He knows from past experiences that he can’t be caught touching himself without permission, so he keeps his briefs firmly in place, instead rubbing the flat of his palm against his mound through the thin material. 

What if Bruce does it in the master bedroom? That’s only happened once, and Jason was gagged that time. It’s too risky messing around in the manor, even if that’d be more comfortable than being bent over whatever horizontal space is available. Jason doesn’t really mind. It’s kind of sexy sneaking around too, the taboo of it all inexplicably arousing. He likes that. He likes thinking about Bruce molesting him, his son.

That thought makes him whimper softly. He takes his hand away, too pent up with anticipation and too turned on to resist shucking his underwear and finally rubbing himself. That’d only make Bruce angrier, and Jason needs to be able to make it to school tomorrow without crutches.

Eventually, Bruce strolls out of the shower and stops before Jason. A towel wrapped around his waist, his body is rosy pink, his skin and hair dripping.

“Jason,” he says, and all neutrality from before is gone; he’s frowning slightly, arms crossed over his chest. An eyebrow quirks in expectation. “Let’s talk about what happened.”

Jason’s mouth waters. _Fuck fuck fuck._ He stands on shaky legs, unable to stop himself from rubbing his thighs together for some kind of relief, though he keeps his hands still at his sides. He doesn’t cover himself anymore, not since Bruce told him not to. Still, it’s a little shameful. He’s a little pervert in the making, getting off on daddy’s punishment. 

As much as he wants to fall to his knees before Bruce and beg, he knows to stand tall (well, as tall as he can be in front of Bruce) and wait for instructions. Tonight, this instruction comes in the form of an eyebrow raise.

Jason doesn’t have to question what that means. He follows Bruce back to the chair at the computer, lingering by Bruce’s side until he nods to the desk. Bruce is silent as Jason pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his underwear, only humming softly when Jason sits on the edge of the desk. He shivers at the touch of the cold wood on his bare ass and thighs.

Bruce’s gaze is piercing. Jason can feel it like a brand on his skin, traveling down, down, down. Under Bruce’s ever-watchful eye, he spreads his thighs slowly, leaning back onto his elbows. Like this, Bruce can see all of him, can see exactly how naughty Jason is.

“What have you been doing?” Bruce speaks after a moment.

“Just waiting for you, old man.”

“No touching?”

Jason shivers. “No. No, just thinking.”

Bruce seems to consider that, stroking Jason’s thigh briefly before his eyes find Jason’s. “What were you thinking about?”

Jason swallows with effort. Fuck. “You,” he breathes. “Always you.”

That seems to please Bruce because he takes pity on him. One hand brushes up his inner thigh to the heat between Jason’s legs. Before Jason can complain about the pace (a certain death wish), a finger grazes his clit and he gasps.

“You’re so wet just thinking about me,” Bruce says, and Jason can hear how smug he is. He wants to grumble and tell the old man it’s his own damn fault for training Jason to associate everything with sex like a fucked up Pavlovian response, but the steady rhythm Bruce starts against his clit has him swallowing any protests.

Bruce is good with his hands. They’re big— big enough to completely wrap around Jason’s ankle and yank him forward so his pussy is closer to Bruce’s face. He watches intently, inspecting his work. Bruce must get off on it or something because he does this every damn time, staring at Jason’s cunt like it’s going to disappear. Maybe he likes the idea of his son hiding a pussy between his legs. Maybe he likes that he’s the only one who knows about it.

“Bruce,” he breathes as the pads of Bruce’s fingers circle his clit, dipping down to softly stroke through his folds, his opening. His little nub is hard already, his slick dripping between his cheeks to pool on the desktop. They hardly ever need lube anymore. Jason used to be too small to do anything without it, even with just Bruce’s fingers, but he’s bigger now, stretched with constant use. It doesn’t even hurt when one finger pushes inside.

“Nghh, Bruce, _fuck_ ,” he whines, his arms writhing uselessly by his sides. He wants to touch, to grab Bruce by the hair and force his mouth on him, force him to eat Jason out, force him to _like it_ , but that isn’t on the agenda tonight. One day, maybe.

“Shh,” Bruce soothes, gently pushing Jason’s rocking hips flat. “We’re nowhere near done.” He adds another finger without warning, and Jason croaks. “I need you to be good for me, okay?”

“Yes, yes! I’ll be good!”

“No crying, understood? We wouldn’t want anyone to hear you.” He pumps his fingers in and out of Jason, the lewd sound of it going straight to Jason’s cunt. He feels warm all over. He hastily nods. Bruce rewards him by pushing inside his pussy just that much deeper, curling, hitting the spot inside of him that makes his hole clench around Bruce.

Jason’s thighs begin to shake enough for Bruce to notice. His free hand lands on the jut of Jason’s hipbone, massaging circles into the smooth skin with his thumb; his other one prods at Jason’s clit, flicking it, driving the boy mad with the sensation. It isn’t enough, even with the fingers fucking into his cunt. He wants more. _More, more, more_.

“You aren’t supposed to like this,” Bruce says quietly. Jason almost misses it save for the look on the man’s face.

Oh. It’s going to be one of those nights.

“I— I like it,” Jason replies, voice too high and breathy for his liking. He exhales shakily to calm himself. “It feels good.” Hesitantly, he adds: “ _You_ feel good, daddy.”

Bruce makes a noise like it’s punched out of him.

“Oh, baby, daddy’s a very bad man,” he whispers. His fingers haven’t stopped. In fact, they’ve only gotten faster, the wet squelches loud in the quiet cave. He slumps forward, head falling, expression hidden by his bangs.

Jason’s entire body jerks when something wet and warm licks a hot stripe from his opening to his clit. He can’t quite contain the groan that claws its way up his throat as Bruce’s lips close around him. He mouths at his clit, sucking on it, tonguing the hood. Jason’s legs shoot up, his heels digging into Bruce’s back.

“Daddy, please,” he moans softly, doing his best to follow Bruce’s command to stay quiet. The cave is soundproof, but it was never about that.

Bruce’s tongue is flexible, licking and kissing his boy in the most intimate way. Jason’s clit throbs in time with his heart.

Fuck, Bruce is so good with his mouth.

Bruce gives up on holding Jason’s hips down, instead gripping his thighs and spreading them further to lap at the boy’s pussy with fervor, replacing his fingers with his tongue. He swirls it inside of him, wriggling it in the way he knows Jason likes. Jason arches his back, pushes his pussy _closer, closer,_ Bruce’s tongue driving deeper. He wants to come like this, with Bruce’s tongue in him, fucking him.

Then suddenly Bruce whimpers into the wet heat.

The sound startles Jason enough to slow his blind thrusting into Bruce’s mouth. “Dad…?” he chances. The man remains unresponsive, unceasing in his ministrations. He doesn’t seem aware Jason spoke. “Bruce,” Jason tries, louder.

Apparently, that was a bad thing to do; Bruce’s shoulders begin to quiver, a choked sound leaving him, muffled by Jason’s sex. Jason sits up hastily, pushing at the man’s shoulders. Surprisingly, he goes without complaint.

Nothing could have prepared Jason for the dazed, distant look to his eyes. He stares into space, Jason’s slick all over his mouth and chin. His chest heaves.

“Bruce, what’s wrong?” Jason demands. Immediately, his mind goes back to stupid Victor. Did the bastard do something to Bruce? Mind-altering shit is usually Ivy’s schtick, but he wouldn’t put a team-up past those two.

Bruce shakes his head, blinking slowly. “You’re so good, Jay,” he mumbles sluggishly, as though it takes effort to speak. “My Jay...”

Jason doesn’t have a chance to react before Bruce is grabbing his waist, pulling him up.

“Bruce? What’s going— _ACK_.” He splutters as he’s forced face-down onto the desk, ass in the air, the tips of his toes barely brushing the ground. Bruce holds him flat with a big hand between his shoulder blades.

“Down, boy,” he grumbles. “Are you going to be good for me?”

Jason nods his head but lets out a startled hiss when a dry finger circles his asshole.

“Br— Daddy, no!” 

“What, you’re going to be picky about your punishment too?”

“No, Dad. I just—” He stops, a flush spreading from the apples of his cheeks to his ears.

“You just what, baby?”

Fuck. He feels Bruce’s finger stroke his perineum. He buries his face into his crossed forearms, hiding. “I want… something else.”

Bruce slips back inside Jason’s wetness, his finger gently stroking the inside of his walls, Jason crowing pathetically. “Tell me what you want, Jay. I won’t know unless you say it.”

Jason knows Bruce knows exactly what Jason wants, but he elects to ignore how humiliating it is to beseech the man in favor of grinding back onto Bruce, searching out what little relief he can get.

Bruce tsks. “You’re not behaving, boy.”

Jason cranes his neck to scowl back at him. “I want you to fuck my pussy, old man. Happy?”

Despite his foul attitude and crass language, Bruce seems delighted. “You have such a way with words.” He chuckles, swiftly retracting his finger. He taps it against Jason’s bottom lip, a brow raised. Jason turns on his side to suck it into his mouth, licking his own slick from it. He moans at the taste, the texture, the way Bruce watches him, enraptured. He loves when Bruce feeds him, loves tasting himself. He could come untouched just from this if it were possible.

Bruce allows Jason one final lick before finally shucking his towel and taking himself in one hand. He strokes leisurely, watching Jason’s pussy clench around nothing, listens to the boy’s accelerated breathing.

“Dad,” Jason says quietly, watching the scene.

“Mm, yeah, kiddo?”

“Are you gonna bad-touch me again?”

Bruce’s face scrunches in pleasure, his expression pained, shoulders hunching as his hips stutter. Jason takes that as his cue, scooting forward on the desk so he’s close yet far enough away to unfold himself so Bruce can see all of him.

“Are you gonna… put that inside me? In… here?” He spreads himself open, raising his hips, his pink little hole winking back at Bruce. His clit is hard and aching, a deep red. He only barely resists taking it between two fingers and jacking it.

Precum beads at the head of Bruce’s cock. “You can’t show people your special parts like that, sweetheart. Bad people will want to touch you there. That isn’t good, baby.”

“But you bad-touch me here, Daddy.”

“I know, Jay. But you can’t let anyone else, okay?”

Jason nods. Bruce steps forward, slotting himself between Jason’s legs and rubbing the head of his dick against his dripping entrance. He leans over Jason on one arm, nosing at his neck. He places a single kiss by his ear. Then, “This’ll be our little secret.”

Jason moans wantonly. He clutches at Bruce’s shoulders to steady himself as Bruce finally, _finally_ pushes inside. It stretches him so good, fuck. He wants to rake his nails down Bruce’s back and kiss him and— and—

Bruce bottoms out and Jason honest to god just about sees the heavenly host.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bruce hisses between clenched teeth. He waits a moment, allowing Jason to adjust to him, then slowly pulls back. “You’re dripping,” he breathes in wonder. His quick thrust back in is met with no resistance. Jason’s arousal pools between them.

Gradually, Bruce picks up the pace (and not a moment too soon because Jason was two seconds away from slapping him and demanding he get on with it). He fucks into Jason slow and deep at first, lost in the sensation of the small boy’s pussy clenching around his length. It isn’t until he finds Jason’s g-spot that his thrusts gain momentum.

Jason can only hold on and ride it out. His chants of _“Bruce! Bruce!”_ gradually transform into _“Daddy! Daddy!”_ as he draws closer and closer to the edge, pleasure making his whole body tremble. Bruce pants above him, his own mantra of praise getting Jason higher.

“So good, love, you’re doing so good,” he groans. He uses Jason’s hips as an anchor. He wants Jason to have bruises the shape of his fingers there, a reminder. He wants Jason to remember this feeling.

“B- _Bruce!_ _ah!_ That’s… _hah_ , t-too rough.”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted your father to fuck you. You wanted all his attention on you, his cock in your fuckable little cunt…” His thrusts are brutal. The wet slapping of their sweaty skin fills Jason’s ears until all he can anticipate is the next brush against his g-spot, the next pleasure-pain of Bruce hitting his cervix. Bruce is too big, too big, and Jason’s going to break in half, but it’s good, it’s so good, and he likes it.

Bruce reaches down and pinches Jason’s clit between two fingers, rubbing right over the most sensitive part of the rosy bud, and Jason jolts, pleasure surging _up, up,_ through his entire body. His toes curl, legs kicking out uselessly. Broken, hiccupping sobs leave him as he reaches the peak of his orgasm and shudders through the aftershocks.

Bruce can’t help but watch the boy unravel with a smile.

“You wanted this all night, didn’t you?”

Jason babbles something unintelligible in response, head lolling to the side. Drool seeps from his slack mouth. He’s wrecked already, the poor little thing.

“Oh, baby, look at you,” Bruce coos, brushing the curls from Jason’s sweaty forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

Bruce loses himself in the feel of Jason. He doesn’t last much longer, Jason squeezing around him too much. A final thrust buries him deep inside, his ragged breaths filling the silent cave.

Jason is near unresponsive under him. Come dribbles out of his wrecked hole as Bruce pulls out, their liquids merging into one.

Before he knows it, he’s dropping to his knees.

The sensation is too much for Jason. He’s still sensitive, hyper-aware of every swipe of Bruce’s tongue. He whines, feebly tries to push Bruce’s head away. He’s going to die here on this desk, naked and covered in Bruce’s come. He’s going to die and it’ll be Bruce’s fault.

Numbly, he realizes he’s crying. 

Bruce uses his tongue to scoop the come from the boy’s cunt. He grunts as he suckles on Jason’s oversensitive folds, plunging his tongue into his entrance, and Jason is hit with the heady rush of another oncoming orgasm.

“M-my— _hnn_ , too— too much, _mmph_.”

Bruce’s eyes crinkle with a silent laugh. He doesn’t let up, even when Jason recoils, sobbing. His mind is too hazy to recognize the signs of his second orgasm until the moment before it hits. His body spasms, the shock hitting him so hard he squirts clear liquid from his pussy, completely soaking them both. Bruce works him through it, even with his ugly crying and the strange, foreign liquid he eagerly slurps up, humming in pleasure. He’s merciful enough to let up before Jason can start hyperventilating.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bruce asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Jason, boneless on the desk, thinks, _I need to thank Victor._

**Author's Note:**

> 4k words of this shit wtf is wrong with me (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> follow me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/bedguts)
> 
> side note you may have noticed there wasn't any kissing in this and that was intentional. mostly because i'm not a fan of it but also i'm too lazy to go back and add it in so sorry about that (╥_╥)


End file.
